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Scaramouche was deeply annoyed with his boyfriend, and partially with himself. It was for such a silly reason too, one that was easily fixed. Scaramouche wanted his boyfriend to touch him. The puppet wasn’t sure what in the world he did to make Childe avoid physical touch, but it was getting on his nerves. It wasn’t like Scaramouche could outright tell Childe he wanted to hold hands, it was much too embarrassing for somebody as high ranking as him. It was pathetic how Scaramouche yearned for physical touch, skin seeking out the heat of Childe’s hands.
Scaramouche stares at Childe from across the room, heart aching to finally feel the others warm and battle calloused hands on his skin. Scaramouche watches with an entertained smile as Childe meets the puppets eye, cocking his head to the side. Scaramouche thought he looked like a confused puppy… it was cute in a pathetic way, only Childe could pull it off. The thing that entertained Scaramouche the most about his partner was how much of a mixed bag he was. One minute Childe was all sharp and cold edges, tearing apart the battle field, and the next he was like a puppy, clumsy, adorable and pathetic. Said ginger strides over to his partner, leaning down to examine Scaramouche.
”What’s got you staring at me?” The other asks, voice light and easy. Scaramouche scoffs, although the teasing smile pulling at his lips gave away his true feelings. “I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to stare at my boyfriend.” He watches in satisfaction as a blush slowly creeps across Childe’s skin. It was always so satisfying to fluster the other. Childe pouts, bottom lip jutting out… Archons did it ever make Scaramouche want to kiss the stupid expression off of him. “I’m still not used to you calling me that..” He mumbles, standing back up to his full height and leaning away as a hand covered his flushed cheeks.
Childe was quick to recover, looking down at Scaramouche with an inquisitive look. “Besides the point… you’ve been staring at lot more than usual, I know I’m pretty easy on the eyes… but c’mon now, somethings gotta be up.” The ginger hums, smirk easy and playful. Scaramouche rolls his eyes, lips quirking into a smile against his will. Who could blame him if he found Childe’s antics cute? “It’s nothing you need to worry about, you might end up hurting yourself if you think too hard.” The puppet grins, folding his arms over his chest. Childe snorts, stepping out of Scaramouche’s personal space, the Balladeer refuses to admit that he missed Childe’s warmth. “Yeah yeah whatever. Tease me all you want, just remember you’re the one dating me.” Scaramouche hated to admit he had a point.
”Don’t you have a meeting to be at?” Scaramouche asks, quirking an eyebrow. He watches in amusement as Childe’s eyes widen, his expression spoke volumes. “Forgetful as always.” He teases with an eye roll. “Yeah yeah I know. It’s your fault though, you’re the only thing on my mind.” Childe says, throwing a wink over his shoulder as he rushes out of the room. Scaramouche flushes, staring at the space Childe was once occupying. “Idiot…” He grumbles, walking away with an half-hearted annoyed huff.
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Childe lets out a groan, laid out across a chair in Signora’s room. “Signora I don’t know what to do..” He whines, pout pulling at his lips. “He won’t tell me what’s wrong… I know somethings wrong… he keeps staring at me...” not that Childe minded the attention, but he wanted to know what was bothering his partner. Signora lets out an annoyed huff, lipstick tube threatening to break under her unyielding grip. “For the love of the Tsaritsa Childe just fucking ask him. I’ve gotten real annoyed by your constant bitching and moaning.” She huffs out from her seat at her vanity. Childe watched her eye twitch in annoyance through the mirror as she messed up her red lipstick for the eighth time.
Childe sighs, eyes casted towards the ceiling. “Scara’s weird like that though… you can’t just ask him or he gets all… defensive.” He had to admit it was pretty cute though, the way Scaramouche got embarrassed so easily. Ajax’s favourite pastime was seeing just how flustered he could get the other, watching his cold and sharp facade melt away like ice under the blistering sun. “Then figure it out. Maybe it’s something he’s embarrassed about, I don’t know. It’s your boyfriend, you know him better than me. It can’t be that bad, he hasn’t ripped off your head yet.” Childe watches as her eyes flare with fury as she messes up her eyeliner. Childe lets out an hum, walking over to her and taking the lube of eyeliner out of her hand. He gets to work on fixing her eyeliner for her, watching as the fiery lady glares up at him. It allowed Childe to have a moment to think, just what was it that could be bothering Scaramouche? Maybe instead of what Childe has done maybe it’s something he hasn’t done. Suddenly it clicks, the solution to Ajax’s problem.
”You finally got an idea of what the hell you could’ve done?” Signora asks, raising an eyebrow as Childe puts the cap back onto the eyeliner. “No idea, but I’m gonna figure it out. Thanks Signora.” Childe grins, hastily moving to leave the room. Signora watches him leave with a sigh before looking at herself in the mirror. “How does he make it look so perfect every time?” She mumbles under her breath, examining what Childe expertly painted onto her face.
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Scaramouche glances up when he hears a chair drag against the floor. Just which of the Harbingers were shuffling their chair around during a meeting? The noise was frankly annoying as it was distracting. Scaramouche had a colourful insult for the chair dragger on the tip of his tongue. Though the words quickly died in his throat when he realized it was Childe. Of course, who else would it be? Scaramouche watches in mild annoyance as Childe scooted his chair closer to Scaramouche’s, so close that their knees brushed together. Scaramouche stiffens, a familiar buzz crawling up his leg from where Childe was currently touching him. The buzz was surprisingly pleasant, Scaramouche often hated physical touch, it made him feel itchy and disgusting. The buzz under his skin felt like the comforting rippling and pulsing of electro under his fingertips, the one he often felt when activating his delusion.
Scaramouche sneaks a glance up at Childe only to see the other forcibly looking away from the Balladeer, face flushed and throat bobbing around, what Scaramouche assumed was a nervous swallow. Scaramouche snickers, gently bumping his knee against Childe’s leg. The Balladeer smiles in satisfaction when he got those sapphire eyes trained onto him, perfect, just the way it should be. Childe stares at Scaramouche for a long moment, face flushed. The ginger starts to slowly pull away, but Scaramouche quickly stops him by resting a hand on Childe’s knee. ”Stay or I swear to the Tsaritsa I will-” Scaramouche begins before promptly being shut up by Childe’s blinding smile. He watched in fascination as Childe barely suppressed a laugh, eyes twinkling in unbridled joy, the kind of joy Childe reserved for his family. Scaramouche’s stomach flips, face no doubt pulling an embarrassing expression. The puppet was transfixed on his partners expression, in awe that he of all people was the one this dazzling smile is directed towards. Scaramouche only rips his eyes away from Childe when he hears somebody clear their throat.
”Are you two done?” Signora asks, tone bored. It was only then that both Childe and Scaramouche realized they had multiple pairs of eyes on them. The two turn away from each other, faces flushing red. “S-sorry..” Childe blurts out. Scaramouche stays silent, worrying his lip between his teeth. For the rest of the meeting Childe and Scaramouche stayed pressed up close, knees and thighs touching, the tingling buzz of contact Scaramouche wasn’t used to, the warmth that oozed from Childe’s body into his stone cold one, everything about touching Childe was pleasing, even if it was as small as the brushing of their knees and thighs. The physical reminder of Childe being next to him helped to reel in the thrashing torrents of twisted thoughts that encased Scaramouche’s mind and heart on the daily. The other radiated warmth, perfectly balancing Scaramouche’s cold personality. Childe’s unrelenting loyalty and warm soul soothed Scaramouche’s difficulties with trust and nonexistent heart. The two fit together like a carefully crafted puzzle, two halves of one whole, two beings who felt devoid of humanity giving each other purpose and feeling.
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Childe was beyond bored. The mission that him and Scaramouche were sent on had barely any combat, all talking and investigation. Childe wondered if The Jester sent them on this mission because nobody else wanted to do it. Childe understood why he was sent out, most of the Harbingers weren’t too fond of him, who better than to do their dirty work? Scaramouche on the other hand? Childe had no idea why, maybe it was so he’d keep an eye on him, or because the Harbingers were getting tired of his attitude. Ajax did take note that Scaramouche seemed less prickly after what happened during the meeting. Despite the lack of fighting the mission wasn’t too bad, it was pretty easy so him and Scaramouche would have free time to roam the city of Mondstadt. Childe was never one to pass up free trips, it meant free drinks and new enemies if Childe managed to convince Scaramouche to go exploring with him. Mondstadt was nice, surely not as lush as Liyue, but it had it’s perks. The locals were friendly for the most part and overall the city had a more rustic and homely feeling, a stark contrast to the cold and practically deserted streets of Snezhnaya.
Childe shakes the lingering thoughts out of his head, he was here for a mission. Currently him and Scaramouche were walking into a bar called Angel’s Share, here they were supposed to find a suspect, something about debts they’d been ignoring through the northland bank. Childe didn’t care to listen, if it wasn’t a mission with fighting he wasn’t interested. The mission was as boring as Childe assumed, he couldn’t help but ponder why they sent two Harbingers for something so mundane. “Do you remember the plan still? You talk things out and and lure them outside, from there we’ll get the money out of them. Got it?” Scaramouche says, eying the other. Childe sighs, nodding along. “Yes Scara, we’ve gone through this ten times, I know what I’m doing. Just sit back, relax and enjoy the show.” He says with a grin. Childe makes his way over to the bar where a blonde woman sits. Perfect, she was here. Out of the corner of his eye Childe watches Scaramouche sit down at a table, a pout pulling at the puppets lips… cute… Childe slides up next to the woman taking a seat beside her, the worn barstool wobbling under his weight. “Hey… any chance I can buy you a drink?” He asks, eyes crinkling in a charming smile.
The rest of the night went smoothly, smoother than Childe thought it would. Childe laid on the charm, managing to flirt the lady out of the bar and into giving them the owed cash. There was one thing that still left Childe confused, if everything went so well then why was Scaramouche so… pissed? Childe could practically feel the anger rolling off the shorter man in waves, threatening to suffocate Childe with the sheer force of them. The cold air clung to Childe as he stepped out of the northland bank, it was quiet along the streets of Mondstadt, the only thing illuminating the world around them was the scattering of stars in the sky and the glowing of street lamps along the pavement. Childe glances over at Scaramouche, his companion was stiffer than usual, practically stomping his feet as he walked. “Scara-” He was quickly interrupted as Scaramouche whipped his head around to face Childe. “You will not breathe a word of this, understood?” The puppet says, voice shaking with anger. Childe’s eyes widen, not expecting the sudden outburst. He nods quickly, always one to agree with whatever Scaramouche wanted… whatever it was he wanted.
Childe wasn’t left wondering for very long. He feels Scaramouche’s hand grab at his wrist before tentatively sliding down to lace their fingers together. Childe stood stock still, staring down at their intertwined fingers. Warmth crept up from the press of his and Scaramouche’s hands all the way up to his face, leaving his face red. “I uh…” The Harbinger says dumbly, shifting his fingers to get a better hold on the other. It was nice… more than nice really. The soft and warm comfort enough to completely erase the chill of the night air. Holding Scaramouche’s hand felt so right … the others smaller hand fit so right in his, like a satisfying puzzle. Childe holds in a laugh when his eyes drag up to Scaramouche’s face. The other had a set brow and pursed lips, but the angry facade practically melted away with the red hot blush across the others face.
Childe begins to walk forward, pulling Scaramouche along with him. “C’mon… lets get into our hotel room before you overheat.” He teases with a grin. Scaramouche sputters, feet stumbling to catch up with the other. “Oh shut up! It’s not like you’re any better!” He huffs out, walking in time with the other. As the two walk Childe swings their intertwined hands, smile coming to his features easier than ever. Yeah… he could get used to this.
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Scaramouche slides the key into the door knob of their hotel room, shouldering the door open with a tired sigh. His eyes widen as he takes in the room. It was admittedly a pretty nice room, it had a balcony that overlooked the city of Mondstadt, warm and homey decor, giving the bedroom a nice atmosphere that reflected the city. There was one issue with the room that Scaramouche was quick to notice. There was only one bed.
Scaramouche’s eyes flick between the bed and Childe, waiting for the other to say something as his face only heated up. The only reaction Childe had was a surprised hum. Scaramouche pinches the bridge of his nose, expression souring. “Childe. Did you book us a room with only one bed?” He asks, tone clipped. Childe withers under the others harsh words, scratching the back of his head with an anxious smile. “Ah… I assumed it’d be fine? Since… we’re dating and all. But I can go ask for a different room?” He suggests, fidgeting with his fingers. Scaramouche scans Childe’s expression carefully, the other seemed unusually upset. Did Childe think that Scaramouche didn’t want to share a bed? Scaramouche face heats up at the thought. He didn’t not want to, he’s just never really shared a bed with somebody before.
Scaramouche’s anger melts when he sees just how nervous and sad Childe looked. He looks like a kicked puppy , Scaramouche’s brain supplies. He lets out a sigh, glancing away from the other out of embarrassment. “It’s whatever. Just try not to drool on me.” He grumbles, his flushed appearance clearly showed his true thoughts on the matter despite his cold tone. Childe lit up pretty quickly, smile excited. “Really? You’re okay with sharing a bed?” If Childe had a tail Scaramouche had no doubt it’d be wagging right now. Scaramouche rolls his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I will tolerate it.” He hums, arms folded. That seemed enough of an answer for the other, the ginger quickly gathering his things to go change in the rooms bathroom.
Scaramouche sits on the bed, idly fidgeting with the ball joints that connected his fingers to his hand. He glances up when the bathroom door finally opens, his eyes slowly widening at the sight that awaited him. Damp ginger curls had droplets of water running down them causing them to stick to Childe’s forehead, the colour significantly darker due to it’s dampness. As Scaramouche’s eyes trailed lower he realized with horror that Childe was shirtless. Scaramouche had no doubt his face was as bright as a pyro slime. The puppet picks up a t-shirt, tossing it at Childe as he covers his eyes. “You are such a dog! Put on a shirt!” He huffs out, peeking through his hands to watch as the white tee hits Childe directly in the chest.
Childe sputters out a laugh, holding onto his sides as the shirt falls to the floor. “Archons, I’d wear a shirt less often if I knew it’d get you this flustered.” Childe teases, picking the shirt off the floor and walking over the Balladeer, much to Scaramouche’s dismay. Scaramouche stiffens as Childe sits next to him, pressing his water warmed shoulder into the Balladeers. “Cmon, let me see your face.” Childe hums, taking hold of Scaramouche’s wrists. His boyfriend suddenly took over his field of view as Scaramouche’s hands were removed from his eyes. Scaramouche looks up at the other in surprise, eyes flicking between the others ocean eyes and pearly smile. The moment was perfect, Scaramouche stuck stock still as he watches the other in wonder and awe, quietly asking himself if this was real … if Childe really was his boyfriend. Childe quickly ruined the moment when he opened his stupid mouth. “You look cute when you blush.”
Scaramouche was quick to shove the other off the bed, storming into the bathroom as his face burns. “I am not cute! Remember your place number eleven!” He huffs out as the bathroom door shuts behind him. Scaramouche had a quick shower, brushed his teeth and changed into his nightwear. The whole time he couldn’t get that dazzling smile, nor the image of Childe’s eyes on him out of his head. It was impossible to believe that Childe was Scaramouche’s boyfriend, that Scaramouche got to be the one Childe chose. A dark part of Scaramouche thought that Childe should’ve chosen somebody better.
The Balladeer opens the bathroom door, eyes settling on the figure on the bed. Childe had end up putting on a shirt, much to Scaramouche’s dismay relief. Scaramouche stands at the foot of the bed, eying his boyfriend and the empty space next to him. The space for Scaramouche. Scaramouche was going to sleep next to Childe. Ugh this is infuriating, he was supposed to be the Balladeer, number six of the fatui harbingers, all powerful and sharp edges… he shouldn’t be getting flustered over something as simple as sleeping with his boyfriend. Childe raises an eyebrow lips quirking into an amused smile. “You going to get into bed or stand there and stare?” The harbinger teases, smile warm. Scaramouche rolls his eyes, settling a knee onto the bed to crawl in next to Childe. “Oh shut up..” He grumbles, laying down beside the other. Scaramouche lays on his back, stiff as a board as he stares up at the ceiling. What now?
Childe glances over at the other before bursting out in laughter. “Wh-what!?” Scaramouche sputters, face red as he stares in betrayal at his partner. “No no it’s nothing! You’re just so… stiff… it’s really funny.” Childe says, voice gleeful and smile equally as happy. Scaramouche lets out a huff, glancing away and folding his arms. “Can you blame me? I’ve never done this before…” He grumbles, pout pulling at his lips. Childe hums softly, sliding under the sheets and turning his body so he’s facing Scaramouche. “Well… what would you like to do?” He asks, voice soft and warm like the sun setting over the horizon. Scaramouche glances back at Childe, heart aching with the way Childe looked at him. Childe looked at Scaramouche like he hung the moon, like Scaramouche didn’t have blood on his hands. Childe looked at Scaramouche like he was something special instead of broken.
Scaramouche could feel the embarrassing prickle of tears in the corner of his eyes. Curse him for getting so emotional about the way Childe looks at him. Scaramouche tentatively slides a hand down to Childe’s, false hands gently grasping warm ones. Scaramouche glances down, eyes settling on the space between them. “Can you hold me?” Scaramouche could feel the ice cold walls slowly crumbling down from the warmth of Childe’s gaze. The Balladeer felt himself melt like ice under the warmth of Childe’s arms. Scaramouche tucks his head into Childe’s shoulder, carefully wrapping his arms around his partner. It felt so nice to be in Childe’s arms like this… it felt so right and so comforting. Is this what love is? He finds himself asking. Is this what it feels like to be held and loved? Admittedly Scaramouche was scared, he’s never experienced something like this before, it was suffocatingly warm but in the best way possible. It was like Scaramouche molded to Childe’s embrace, hands clutching onto the other embarrassingly tight, afraid that the other would disappear like a brief flash of lightning. The feeling rocked Scaramouche to his core, leaving him trembling. Childe didn’t say a word if he felt the hot tears rolling from Scaramouche’s checks down to his shirt.
Childe runs a calloused hand through Scaramouche’s hair, the other rubbing circles into his back. Scaramouche found comfort in the simple touch, as well as the echoing heartbeat under his ear. “Goodnight Scaramouche.” Rumbled the voice from beneath him, soft and warm lips pressing against a cold forehead. Scaramouche’s eyes flutter shut, sleep quick to envelope him. “Goodnight Childe.”
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Scaramouche face flushes red as Childe presses a kiss to his forehead, the puppet letting out a huff as he buries his face in Childe’s shoulder. The chest under him rumbles with laughter, Scaramouche could practically hear the others foxlike smile in his laugh. “What? Isn’t this what you wanted?” Childe teases, running a hand through violet hair. Childe wasn’t wrong Scaramouche did ask the other to lay down with him. It was worth the embarrassment, plush sheets and a warm boyfriend to fight off the Snezhnayan cold and warm the heart of the puppet currently laying on said boyfriend.
Scaramouche grumbles, melting into the others touch. “If I knew you’d be this annoying and hanging off of me constantly I wouldn’t have shared a bed with you in the first place.” Childe snorts in response. “Don’t lie, you love cuddling just as much as I do.” He grins, arms wrapping around Scaramouche’s waist to pull him impossibly closer.
It’s been about a month since they shared a bed in that hotel in Mondstadt, physical touch became a much more common thing between the two. It was rare to see Scaramouche and Childe next to each other without them holding hands or standing shoulder to shoulder. The other Harbingers teased them endlessly about it, although Scaramouche was quick to shut them up. Scaramouche wouldn’t trade Childe for the world, his warm smile and genuine heart warmed the puppets cold exterior. For once Scaramouche wasn’t afraid to lose something, he wasn’t afraid of the emotions welling up and spilling over inside of him. The puppet bathed in the emotions that his partner evoked, happy to accept them if they made him feel this safe.